


Living Amongst Ghosts

by Eiran (Phynx)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Dark Harry, F/M, M/M, Murder, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Rating May Change, Slytherin Harry, Time Travel, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phynx/pseuds/Eiran
Summary: Finding himself in a time he doesn't belong, Harry meets the young Tom Riddle, who drags him further and further into the darkness and doesn't plan on ever letting go.





	Living Amongst Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever story, and I would greatly appreciate any feedback (especially in regards to grammar and story execution). I am mostly writing for enjoyment, but also to help better my writing and my English.

# I

  
‘Do you know who he is?’ a honey-toned voice asked, breaking through my hazy nightmares. Soft, and with just a hint of silk, the voice was like a soothing balm against the sharp ringing in my ears.

Struggling to open my eyes, I instead call out, ‘Hello?’ My body felt like it was floating in water, just drifting along the currents. I could barely even make my fingers twitch, and more alarmingly, I couldn't bring myself to really _want_ to move them at all.

A slight shuffling of shoes echoed around.

‘‘Fraid not, madam,’ another voice, full of churning gravel and murdered syllables, replied in regret, ‘only found him ‘cause I was lookin’ for me lost scarf. That blizzard were mighty terrible an’ the wind were havin’ a grudge on me. Young laddy here were just layin’ there in the snow like he were havin’ a ‘joyable slumber. Pale as a horse-drawn ghost, he were. Poor laddy, looks barely sixteen an’ he's already had a meetin’ with death.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked, but received no reply. I could scarcely follow what they were talking about. He sounded like he was talking in water, and his accent did little to help. It sounded like they were talking about finding someone in the snow, but he couldn't figure out _who_ they found in the snow, and why they were talking about it near him.

‘I see,’ the honey-toned voice said, a hint of disappointment in her tone. ‘Thank you for telling me all you know. Have a lovely morning, now. And take care.’

‘You too, madam. Take care.’ Heavy footsteps shuffled on the floor, the sound getting farther and farther away.

‘Well, what am I to do?’ the honey-toned voice asked themselves. ‘I hope you wake soon. No one seems to know you and your not enrolled in Hogwarts. Some information would be rather helpful, especially since I might have to involve the Aurors if Lord Malfoy is displeased.’ Footsteps, this time much softer in sound, slowly made their way away from me until I could no longer hear them any longer.

_Lord Malfoy?_ I thought. _She's talking about Draco?_

Feeling even more confused than before, I struggled to open my eyes to no avail. Frowning, I continued to try and open my eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut. Frustration crawling it's way to the surface, I kept at it for what seemed like hours, and only then did I manage to finally open them.

My eyes met with the harsh rays of the sun, causing me to shut them immediately. I kept them closed for a few seconds, letting the pain subside. Tentatively, I opened my eyes again, this time much slower.

The first thing that came into view was an arching ceiling made out of what looked to be grey stone. It was fairly pleasing to the eye (and so very familiar), but it wasn't much to look at. With great effort, I managed to tilt my head slightly so it lolled to the side. My view changed to rows of white beds (familiar beds) and a chestnut door. Amongst all the greyness, the door looked very out of place, the light wood shining under the sun’s rays.

It was then that I realised something very important. I could see the minute grains of the chestnut door, the creases and wrinkles of the various beds’ sheets, and the bumps and ridges of the wall with a startling clearness. As immobile as I was, I _could_ feel the the smooth sheet covering me and the tattered and itchy clothing I wore, which meant I should have been able to the familiar weight of taped spectacles across the bridge of my nose. Yet, there was none, and I could see better than I ever could before.

_Click_.

Snapping my eyes to the door, I was met with the vision of a weather-worn woman with warm, hazel eyes stepping into the room. She was fairly young, around early to mid thirties as far as I could tell, but ess lines on her face seemed to age her a few years. She was adorned with some sort of white headwear - similar to a nun’s habit - along with a long-sleeved, grey dress covered by something similar to an apron. The outfit actually reminded me of Madam Pomfrey. It was almost an exact replica, actually, if not for the grey colour of the dress. She was also married, or at least I assume she was, since I could make out a light gold band around her left ring finger.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed in a honey-toned voice, making me realise she was the woman who was in the room before. “You're awake! That's wonderful!” Hurriedly she bustled towards me.

‘Where…?’ I started with a croak, unable to get my dry and scratchy throat to cooperate and finish my question.

‘Oh, right. You must be terribly confused, deary,’ she said. ‘You're in Saint Mungo’s Hospital. Mr. Brown had found you laying in the snow on Lord Malfoy’s property.’

‘What?’ I asked in confusion, ‘how did I end up there?’ I'm sure that the last thing I had done was go to bed with Ginny, not go wandering around Draco’s property. Though, I might have actually preferred that. Our marriage had not been going too well. And I'm also pretty sure that it had been autumn the last time I checked, not winter.

‘Wah—’ I started only to cut myself off and clear my throat. ‘What? Draco’s property? Snow?’ I asked, feeling terribly lost.

‘Draco? Who is that?’ she asked confusedly.

‘Lord Malfoy. Lord Draco Malfoy,’ I told her, feeling confusion myself and a rising dread at the implications of her reaction.

‘There is no Lord Draco Malfoy. The current Lord is Lord Flavius Malfoy,’ she told me, looking at me as if I had hit my head too hard.

‘…May I know what the date is?’ I asked while trying to sit up, struggling terribly but managing it with the help of the woman. I could feel dread pooling into my gut, and instinct told me I wasn't going to like her answer.

‘December 25th, 1941,’ she told me, her face morphing from worried to deeply troubled.

‘1941?’ I squeaked out.

‘Yes, 1941,’ she repeated and then looked at me in pity. ‘Oh. Oh, you poor dear. Can you not remember anything?’

Pausing for a second, I decided it was best to play ignorant in the situation I found myself in. If I was not experiencing a hallucination or under the effects of some sort of drug, I had no wish to create any problems by messing with the timeline. And I was also quite certain that time travelling was illegal, and did not want to be swooped up by the Ministry and sent to Azkaban.

Looking at her, I shook my my head as best as I could. ‘Just bits and pieces, but not very much,’ I lied.

‘I see,’ she said with a frown. ‘Well, amnesia is a very tricky thing to cure, but we can try mind healers—’

‘No,’ I instantly interrupted, knowing it would be bad if someone went rifling through my head and realised I didn't have amnesia.

‘No?’ she asked. ‘I would highly advise it.’

‘No. If I have amnesia, then I might have it for a good reason,’ I explained. ‘Plus, it's only memories concerning people and current events, not knowledge on magic and everything else,’ I said, hoping she wouldn't notice how I added the last bit a bit hastily.

‘But what about your parents? I can't in good conscience not try and help you find them.’

I looked at her questioningly. ‘Parents?’

‘Yes, your parents. You look only about fourteen or fifteen years old. Your parents must be terribly worried.’

‘Fourteen or fifteen…’ I trailed off while looking down at myself for the first time. My eyes widened almost comically when I realised I was most certainly not in my own body.

Delicate—small with thin, long fingers—hands lifted in front of me, free of my scars and callouses from days with the Dursleys and Hogwarts. My arms were smaller as well; more lithe and thin compared to the muscle I had finally managed to gain. My skin was also pale, a stark contrast to the tan I was accustomed to seeing. Even more alarming—I could hardly believe I didn't notice it before—was that my once short, brown hair reached down past my shoulders and was a shiny, tangle-free black.

Clamping down on my urge to hyperventilate—I had no wish to stay in Saint Mungo’s any longer than necessary—I looked back up at the woman.

‘I'm sixteen and don't have parents,’ I told her, not really knowing the true age of the body I was inhabiting and trying to hide the strain in my voice. I could deal with everything once I was out of the healing ward.

‘Sixteen?’ she repeated in surprise while looking at me, doubt written all over her face. ‘And you say that you don't have any parents? Are you sure you just don't remember them?’ she said in worry and a bit of alarm.

‘I'm sure.’

‘Absolutely?’ she asked me, suspicion colouring her tone.

‘Absolutely,’ I told her, feeling a bit of annoyance at the skepticism in her voice. One thing I hated about looking like a child again was that adults were less likely to believe you. I had already had enough problems with that when I was dealing with Voldemort.

‘Are—’ she started, only for me to cut her off.

‘Yes, I'm quite sure,’ I started. ‘My last memory of them was of their cooling corpses,’ I snapped. I had long become desensitised about their deaths and even most terrible and vile things; it no longer really bothered me. That was one of the reasons Ginny and I had been having problems in our marriage. She would say I had grown cold and distant, and seemed darker.

‘Ah, um, oh,’ she stammered.

_At least that shut her up,_ I thought in relief.

‘Can I leave now?’ I asked impatiently. I still had a deep aversion to hospitals and healers no matter what time period it is.

‘I see. Well, if you insist deary,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But you'll still have to go to school, and Lord Malfoy might come to ask you questions as well,’ she told him. ‘There's also still the problem of your living arrangements and your guardian.’

‘Just send me to an orphanage and help me with enrolling into Hogwarts.’

‘. . .All right,’ she agreed, her voice unsure.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there's the first chapter. I am still teetering on the edge about whether or not I will go further with this story, but I think I am leaning towards continuing.


End file.
